


Sway

by sirius123



Series: Final Fantasy XIV Writing Challenge 2020 [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Auvant Beamont, Character Death, F/M, Fell Krieger, Morgana Krieger, The parents meet, before canon, ishgard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirius123/pseuds/sirius123
Summary: Morgana dances and dances and Auvant falls a little more in love every time she does.Prompt #2 for the FFXIV Writing Challenge 2020!
Relationships: Original Male Character/ Original Female Character
Series: Final Fantasy XIV Writing Challenge 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907170





	Sway

**Author's Note:**

> A story on how Fell, Larka and Raise's parents met.

The first time Auvant saw Morgana, she was dancing in the middle of a field filled with sunflowers. He was on patrol, and her caravan was not far off, the leader making some sort of deal with the merchant in charge of Camp Dragonhead. He could only watch her in stunned silence as the petals floated around her, scattered by her elegant steps and long sweeps of her arm.

She didn’t notice him, though, as she twirled and spun to a beat only she could hear. He felt as though he had watched her for bells, but in reality, it had only been a few moments. He almost chased her when the caravan leader called for her, willing himself to stay in his post as he watched her slow to a stop and join the caravan once more. He watched as the caravan disappeared over the horizon and cursed himself for not taking the opportunity to meet the raven-haired beauty.

The second time Auvant saw Morgana, she was humming softly, swaying in place as she waited for the leader of the caravan to broker another deal with the guard at the gate of the Steps of Faith. They were trying to get into the city, it looked like, but there was little they would be able to do. The city was closed to anyone who didn’t have a pass from a noble house. The leader turned around, discouraged as he exchanged a few words with the beautiful Wildwood woman. Her swaying stopped and her shoulders drooped, and Auvant couldn’t help himself. He broke formation, to the surprise of his fellow knights, and approached the young woman and the small caravan.

“Excuse me,” he called, and they turned. The young woman looked up at him. She was surprisingly small for a Wildwood, lithe and svelte and graceful in many ways only an Elezen was able to be. She smiled at him, her beautiful yellow eyes arching into half crescents. His mouth went dry and he audibly swallowed, willing the words to come as he turned to the guard. “I am Auvant Beaumont, of the lesser noble house of Beaumont. I see you’ve met my guests.” He had no idea why he vouched for the caravan and the woman he didn’t know, but soon they were all in the city. 

“Thank you,” the woman said, and Auvant tugged at the tunic of his armor, pulling at the collar nervously. He couldn’t help but preen himself a little, straightening out his brown hair, avoiding her gaze. “I’m not sure why you helped us, but we really appreciate it.”

“It’s, uh. It’s no problem,” he said, and she smiled brightly at him once more, holding out her hand for him to shake.

“My name is Morgana. You said yours was Auvant, right?” He nodded quickly, taking her hand to shake it gently. Her hands were covered in small bandages and dirt, and the smell of sweet herbs filled his senses. So she was an herbalist. “It’s nice to meet you, Auvant. Thank you again for your help. My father looked like he was going to faint from the stress of talking to that knight.” She covered her mouth to hide a demure smile. “It was kind of like talking to a wall. He wouldn’t say a thing.”

“Ah, well. I promise not all Ishgardians are like that,” he said. She giggled.

“Oh, really? Do you count yourself amongst them?” she asked. He flushed and she giggled again, reaching up and placing a hand on his armored arm. He looked blankly at it as she smiled at him.

“Uh. Yeah. I mean, yes. That’s me. Friendly as can be.” Morgana laughed, her eyes curling once more, and his heart fluttered in his chest.

“Well, Lord Auvant,” she hummed, letting go of his arms to once more sway gently. It was almost like the wind was blowing her softly to and fro as she turned, looking at him over his shoulder. “Maybe we’ll meet again?”

“Ah. Yes. Maybe. Uh. Later.” He lifted a hand in farewell as she walked away. He willed his racing heart to calm, and it was at the moment when she threw one last look over her shoulder at him, that he knew he was in trouble.

The third time Auvant saw Morgana, it was dark, and the streets were quiet. He was finally on his way home, exhausted from a long day of patrols, and there she was. She was dancing again, twirling and laughing as the moonlight broke through a few stray clouds. His breath caught in his throat, watching as the pale moonlight caressed her smooth skin and lit up her yellow eyes, twinkling like the stars in the sky.

She noticed him before he could say anything and smiled brightly at him, holding her arms out in greeting. He slowly walked up to her, absolutely shocked as she grabbed both of his hands and spun around him. He nearly lost his balance as she twirled him around, laughing.

“W-wha-” He started, and she laughed, letting go of his hands to spin around once more.

“Auvant! It is a beautiful night! Dance with me!” She laughed. Her hair stuck to her face and she was huffing from exertion, but Auvant had never seen anything more beautiful as she reached up to fix her hair, pulling it from her eyes.

“I-I shouldn’t. Someone might see,” he said, and she laughed again, grabbing his hands.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter!” She laughed. “Dance like no one can see! If they can, who cares? Tonight is beautiful, and we need to celebrate it!” He let her twirl him around again. They spun and spun until Auvant stumbled in place, dizzy but elated from the dance. She twirled and stumbled and landed in his arms, her laughter filling the air.

“Oh! That was fun! You’re not half bad, Lord Auvant!” she winked at him, and he blushed. Her face was flushed as she gazed up at him. “We should do this again, while I’m still here!”

“I... I think I’d like that,” he huffed. “How about tomorrow night? We could go dancing at the local tavern.” She blinked and smiled slowly.

“Goodness. Lord Auvant, are you asking me out on a date?” His blush deepened and she laughed. “Well! I accept, my lord. I’ staying at the Forgotten night. Pick me up before dusk, alright?” Her finger trailing up his armored chest and she winked. “Promise not to be late, alright?”

“I. Alright.” He watched her leave once more and watching her hips sway, her hair glittering in the starlight, he knew that he wanted to be with this woman forever.

The last time Auvant saw Morgana, she was rocking their youngest son, Fell, to sleep. She hummed, swaying gently as the little boy quieted, finally dozing. She looked up at him with that smile that he adored, leaning up to kiss him softly as he approached her.

“How long will you be this time?” She asked softly, and Auvant smiled.

“Not long, my dear,” he said, reaching up to tuck a lock of long hair behind her ear. “Perhaps a day or so. I’ll be home by supper tomorrow, the Fury willing.”

“Well, I shall be sure to have something warm and delicious made for you when you come back,” she said, presenting Fell to him. He gladly took his youngest son in his arms, watching him breather softly for a few moments before leaning down and kissing the tuft of dark hair on his head. “Be back soon. Your sons and daughter will miss you terribly while you’re gone.”

“Oh? And you won’t?” Morgana laughed and kissed him once more.

“Well, perhaps just a bit. Now, be off with you! The Twelveswood won’t protect itself!” She shooed him away. “And the sooner you leave, the sooner you can return to my arms. Be safe, my love.”

He smiled and walked down the small path that led down the road, turning his head to look at her one last time. Her hair blew gently in the breeze and she held their little boy close to her chest, smiling at him. It was the image he had in his head when the Ixal’s spear found his heart, and it was her name that left his lips as his consciousness faded.

That night, Morgana stood at the window, hand to her chest as she swayed nervously. Dinner grew cold as her children screamed for their mother.

She never danced again.


End file.
